My wife died giving birth to our daughter.<\/p>\n
And in the worst moment of my life, I said the cruelest words I would ever speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s a curse.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was sitting in the hospital room, staring at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms.<\/p>\n
My wife, Claire, was gone.<\/p>\n
She had died minutes after giving birth.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t understand how someone could enter a hospital alive and leave in a coffin while the child she had just brought into the world survived.<\/p>\n
The nurse asked me if I wanted to hold the baby.<\/p>\n
I looked away.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet her out of my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
The nurse froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
I pointed toward the baby.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s the reason my wife is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Even saying it now makes me sick.<\/p>\n
But back then, grief had turned my mind into something unrecognizable.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t see a newborn.<\/p>\n
I saw the last breath my wife took.<\/p>\n
I saw doctors running.<\/p>\n
I heard machines screaming.<\/p>\n
I heard someone say, \u201cWe’re losing her.\u201d<\/p>\n
And then silence.<\/p>\n
The baby cried.<\/p>\n
My wife didn’t.<\/p>\n
So I blamed the only person who couldn’t defend herself.<\/p>\n
My daughter.<\/p>\n
I named her Emma because Claire had chosen the name months earlier.<\/p>\n
Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to say it.<\/p>\n
I refused to hold her.<\/p>\n
I refused to look at her.<\/p>\n
I signed the adoption papers two days later.<\/p>\n
The social worker asked me three times if I was certain.<\/p>\n
I said yes.<\/p>\n
She asked if I wanted to wait.<\/p>\n
I said no.<\/p>\n
She asked if there was anyone in my family who could help.<\/p>\n
I said no.<\/p>\n
I lied.<\/p>\n
My mother had begged me to reconsider.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re grieving,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know what I’m doing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you don’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can’t look at her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe is your daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe killed my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother slapped me.<\/p>\n
It was the only time she ever hit me.<\/p>\n
She cried afterward.<\/p>\n
So did I.<\/p>\n
But I still signed.<\/p>\n
A week later, my daughter left the hospital.<\/p>\n
With another family.<\/p>\n
Without me.<\/p>\n
I went home alone.<\/p>\n
Claire’s clothes were still in the closet.<\/p>\n
Her perfume was still on the dresser.<\/p>\n
Her toothbrush was still beside the sink.<\/p>\n
And the nursery we’d spent months preparing stood untouched.<\/p>\n
There was a crib.<\/p>\n
A rocking chair.<\/p>\n
A stack of tiny diapers.<\/p>\n
A stuffed rabbit Claire had bought before she died.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t enter the room.<\/p>\n
So I closed the door.<\/p>\n
And tried to pretend it had never existed.<\/p>\n
For a while, I convinced myself I had made the right decision.<\/p>\n
I went back to work.<\/p>\n
I stopped talking about Claire.<\/p>\n
I stopped answering questions.<\/p>\n
I told everyone I was fine.<\/p>\n
I wasn’t.<\/p>\n
Every birthday, I remembered.<\/p>\n
Not just Claire’s birthday.<\/p>\n
My daughter’s.<\/p>\n
I knew the date.<\/p>\n
I knew exactly how old she was.<\/p>\n
One year old.<\/p>\n
Three.<\/p>\n
Five.<\/p>\n
Ten.<\/p>\n
Fifteen.<\/p>\n
Every year, I wondered what she looked like.<\/p>\n
Did she have Claire’s eyes?<\/p>\n
Did she laugh like her?<\/p>\n
Did she hate broccoli?<\/p>\n
Did she like books?<\/p>\n
Did she know where she came from?<\/p>\n
Did she ever wonder why her father didn’t want her?<\/p>\n
Those questions became punishment.<\/p>\n
I never contacted the adoption agency.<\/p>\n
I never searched for her.<\/p>\n
I told myself that was the respectful thing to do.<\/p>\n
Her new family had raised her.<\/p>\n
They loved her.<\/p>\n
I had no right to disrupt her life.<\/p>\n
But deep down, I knew the truth.<\/p>\n
I was afraid.<\/p>\n
Afraid she would hate me.<\/p>\n
Afraid she would ask why.<\/p>\n
Afraid I’d have no answer good enough.<\/p>\n
Fifteen years passed.<\/p>\n
Then my mother turned sixty.<\/p>\n
She insisted on having a birthday party.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t want anything extravagant,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’ve said that every year.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis time I mean it.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was lying.<\/p>\n
The house was full of people when I arrived.<\/p>\n
Relatives.<\/p>\n
Old friends.<\/p>\n
Neighbors.<\/p>\n
Music.<\/p>\n
Food.<\/p>\n
Laughter.<\/p>\n
For a few minutes, I almost forgot the date.<\/p>\n
Then I saw the photograph on the mantel.<\/p>\n
My mother had placed an old picture of Claire beside a vase of flowers.<\/p>\n
Claire was smiling.<\/p>\n
Young.<\/p>\n
Beautiful.<\/p>\n
Alive.<\/p>\n
I stood there staring at her.<\/p>\n
My mother came beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI miss her too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe would have been fifteen today.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you ever wondered what she looks like?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
My mother sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery day.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then someone called her from the kitchen.<\/p>\n
She walked away.<\/p>\n
I took a drink.<\/p>\n
And tried to push the thoughts away.<\/p>\n
That’s when I heard a girl’s voice behind me.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
And everything stopped.<\/p>\n
She was standing across the room.<\/p>\n
A teenage girl.<\/p>\n
Maybe fifteen.<\/p>\n
Dark hair.<\/p>\n
Claire’s eyes.<\/p>\n
My smile.<\/p>\n
And on her wrist…<\/p>\n
a tiny birthmark.<\/p>\n
The same crescent-shaped mark I had.<\/p>\n
The mark Claire used to joke about.<\/p>\n
She used to call it our family moon.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
The girl stared at me.<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled with something I couldn’t identify.<\/p>\n
Anger.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
Curiosity.<\/p>\n
Pain.<\/p>\n
She took one slow step toward me.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
My mother appeared behind her.<\/p>\n
Her face was pale.<\/p>\n
I looked at my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
The girl stopped in front of me.<\/p>\n
She looked directly into my eyes.<\/p>\n
Then whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cSo\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
She swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re the man who decided I wasn’t worth loving.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt like someone had punched me.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmma?\u201d<\/p>\n
She flinched at the sound of her name.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
My knees nearly gave out.<\/p>\n
I grabbed the back of a chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n
She finished the sentence for me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n
She looked around the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon’t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice was cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn’t come here expecting you to suddenly become my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe found me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emma’s eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe found me three months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe contacted the adoption agency.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emma spoke quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted to know who my biological parents were.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I wanted her to decide whether she wanted to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you decided for her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emma interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at me for several seconds.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I wanted to know if you were real.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted to know if the man who gave me away was actually my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
My chest tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
That hurt more than if she’d said she hated me.<\/p>\n
My mother quietly walked away.<\/p>\n
Emma and I stood facing each other.<\/p>\n
I wanted to hug her.<\/p>\n
But I didn’t.<\/p>\n
I had no right.<\/p>\n
Instead, I asked the only question I could think of.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
She almost laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s your first question?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know what to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’ve had fifteen years to think about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I lowered my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re right.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
The question I’d feared for fifteen years.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you give me away?\u201d<\/p>\n
I could have lied.<\/p>\n
I could have said I wasn’t ready.<\/p>\n
That I was young.<\/p>\n
That I was grieving.<\/p>\n
All of those things were true.<\/p>\n
But none of them were the whole truth.<\/p>\n
So I told her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI blamed you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression didn’t change.<\/p>\n
\u201cI blamed you for your mother’s death.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s why?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat I was born?\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked away.<\/p>\n
I heard her breathe.<\/p>\n
Then she whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cI spent fifteen years wondering what was wrong with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart shattered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you don’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know what it’s like to be fourteen years old and wonder whether your own father gave you away because you weren’t lovable?\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know what it’s like to look in the mirror and wonder if you have the face of someone your father couldn’t stand?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEmma\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know what it’s like to hate your own birthday?\u201d<\/p>\n
I started crying.<\/p>\n
She didn’t.<\/p>\n
She had probably cried enough for both of us.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never hated you,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
She stared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou gave me away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hated myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn’t change what you did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked surprised.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is no excuse.\u201d<\/p>\n
She waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was grieving. I was angry. I was broken. But none of that makes what I said acceptable.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were supposed to protect me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were supposed to love me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t lie.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She wiped her cheek.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor finally telling me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned away.<\/p>\n
I thought she was leaving.<\/p>\n
Then she stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy adoptive parents are good people.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m glad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey love me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m glad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey never made me feel unwanted.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey gave me everything you couldn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I still wanted to know you.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you’re my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
That night, she left with her adoptive parents.<\/p>\n
I didn’t ask her to stay.<\/p>\n
I didn’t ask her to forgive me.<\/p>\n
I didn’t even ask for her phone number.<\/p>\n
As she walked toward the door, I said:<\/p>\n
\u201cEmma?\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut if you ever do\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ll be here.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Then she left.<\/p>\n
I thought that was the end.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t.<\/p>\n
Three days later, my phone rang.<\/p>\n
A number I didn’t recognize.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt’s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmma?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I ask you something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you still have Mom’s things?\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll of them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMost.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I see them?\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She came the following Saturday.<\/p>\n
I opened the door.<\/p>\n
She stood there holding a backpack.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n
She walked inside.<\/p>\n
For the first hour, we went through Claire’s things.<\/p>\n
Photographs.<\/p>\n
Letters.<\/p>\n
Clothes.<\/p>\n
A jewelry box.<\/p>\n
A collection of old recipes.<\/p>\n
Then I showed her the nursery.<\/p>\n
It had been locked for fifteen years.<\/p>\n
I opened the door.<\/p>\n
Emma stopped.<\/p>\n
The room was dusty.<\/p>\n
But everything was still there.<\/p>\n
The crib.<\/p>\n
The rocking chair.<\/p>\n
The stuffed rabbit.<\/p>\n
She walked toward it slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou kept this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cI couldn’t throw it away.\u201d<\/p>\n
She picked up the stuffed rabbit.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas this Mom’s?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She held it against her chest.<\/p>\n
Then she started crying.<\/p>\n
I stood there.<\/p>\n
I wanted to hold her.<\/p>\n
But I waited.<\/p>\n
After a moment, she looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I have it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt’s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Then something unexpected happened.<\/p>\n
She stepped toward me.<\/p>\n
I didn’t move.<\/p>\n
She wrapped her arms around me.<\/p>\n
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
Then I hugged her.<\/p>\n
Carefully.<\/p>\n
Like she was something fragile.<\/p>\n
Like I was afraid she’d disappear.<\/p>\n
She cried against my shoulder.<\/p>\n
So did I.<\/p>\n
I whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn’t say it was okay.<\/p>\n
Instead, she said:<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
We stayed like that for a long time.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t forgiveness.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
It was something smaller.<\/p>\n
Something more honest.<\/p>\n
A beginning.<\/p>\n
Over the next year, we slowly built a relationship.<\/p>\n
Coffee on Saturdays.<\/p>\n
Long phone calls.<\/p>\n
Awkward dinners.<\/p>\n
Movies.<\/p>\n
Arguments.<\/p>\n
Silences.<\/p>\n
Sometimes she was angry.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I was afraid to say the wrong thing.<\/p>\n
Sometimes she didn’t want to talk about the past.<\/p>\n
Sometimes she did.<\/p>\n
I never told her she needed to forgive me.<\/p>\n
That wasn’t my decision.<\/p>\n
One afternoon, she asked me:<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you ever wish you had kept me?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery day.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you regret me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to think I was the worst thing that happened to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt tears fill my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were never the worst thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLosing your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd losing you was the second.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was quiet.<\/p>\n
Then she smiled.<\/p>\n
Small.<\/p>\n
But real.<\/p>\n
Years later, Emma graduated from college.<\/p>\n
Her adoptive parents sat in the front row.<\/p>\n
My mother sat beside me.<\/p>\n
And I sat several rows behind them.<\/p>\n
I didn’t want to take a place that belonged to the people who had raised her.<\/p>\n
When her name was called, she walked across the stage.<\/p>\n
Then she looked into the crowd.<\/p>\n
Her eyes found mine.<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
After the ceremony, she ran toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad!\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze.<\/p>\n
She hugged me.<\/p>\n
It was the first time she had called me that.<\/p>\n
I held her tightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m proud of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pulled back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you know what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don’t have to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n
She touched my wrist.<\/p>\n
Right where our matching birthmarks were.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou made a terrible choice.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you finally made the right one.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hugged me again.<\/p>\n
And for the first time, I understood something I should have understood fifteen years earlier.<\/p>\n
A child is not a curse.<\/p>\n
A child is not responsible for the circumstances of their birth.<\/p>\n
And grief doesn’t excuse cruelty.<\/p>\n
But people can change.<\/p>\n
Not by demanding forgiveness.<\/p>\n
Not by pretending the past didn’t happen.<\/p>\n
But by accepting the consequences…<\/p>\n
and choosing, every day afterward, to become someone worthy of being forgiven.<\/p>\n
I lost fifteen years with my daughter.<\/p>\n
I’ll never get them back.<\/p>\n
There are birthdays I missed.<\/p>\n
Christmases I wasn’t there for.<\/p>\n
First days of school.<\/p>\n
Broken hearts.<\/p>\n
First dances.<\/p>\n
Graduations.<\/p>\n
Fifteen years of ordinary moments I’ll never know.<\/p>\n
And I will always carry that loss.<\/p>\n
But Emma taught me something.<\/p>\n
Sometimes the door you slammed shut in grief isn’t locked forever.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, if you’re brave enough to knock…<\/p>\n
someone might open it.<\/p>\n
Not because you deserve another chance.<\/p>\n
But because they deserve the chance to decide for themselves what happens next.<\/p>\n
And when Emma walked out of my house that evening, she turned at the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ll see you Sunday.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood there long after she left.<\/p>\n
Then I looked at the old nursery.<\/p>\n
The room that had once been a monument to my regret.<\/p>\n
And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a grave.<\/p>\n
It felt like a beginning.<\/p>\n
Because fifteen years earlier, I had told my daughter she wasn’t worth loving.<\/p>\n
And fifteen years later, she taught me the truth.<\/p>\n
**She had never needed me to save her.<\/p>\n
I was the one who needed her to teach me how to live with what I had done\u2014and still choose to love her every day I had left.**<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My wife died giving birth to our daughter. And in the worst moment of my life, I said the cruelest words I would ever speak. \u201cShe\u2019s a curse.\u201d I was … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":41581,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-41619","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-keang007"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41619","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=41619"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41619\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":41620,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41619\/revisions\/41620"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/41581"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=41619"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=41619"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readupdatemystory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=41619"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}